


Man and Wife

by mgsmurf



Series: The Path Ahead [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6655828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mgsmurf/pseuds/mgsmurf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne finally say their vows, and Jaime introduces Brienne to some of the ways of the castle. A sequel to "Telling of Last Goodbyes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man and Wife

Brienne was not sure she had seen anything as beautiful as Jaime Lannister decked out in red and gold. He gave a half smile as they faced each other at the sept. New polish shone on the red armor and its gold highlights. The creak of the red leather lessened from fresh oil. His sword hung on his hip. Gold lions covered the armor, his cape and the ornate sheath of his sword. Still the image of a god. 

Led by her father, Brienne walked down the aisle. She wore a thick blue gown long enough to actually drape upon the floor and hide her simple slippers that made her feet feel almost bare. Oathkeeper hung shiny and sharp at her hip. The breastplate of cool blue with the crest of Tarth showed off her figure more than even her gown alone might have. She was glad it covered the low bodice of her gown. 

She ignored any gasp at the fact that when she stepped up to Jaime she stood taller, even though he was not a short man. Together they turned to face the septon, a middle-aged man decked in more finery than Brienne would have expected given the current High Septon. Jaime took her right hand and stilled shivering she had not realized she had. Staring down a field of knights or sellswords she could do without a blink of the eye, yet this made her quiver. 

The septon began the long list of prayers. “The exchange of the cloak,” he said after. 

“The Lady Brienne doesn't need my cloak,” Jaime's voice rang on the walls. “She's already more than proved able to protect herself and her house.”

Brienne looked at him, brow furrowed. The cloaks was always a part of a wedding. Jaime only smiled cockily back at her. Through it was true she needed no protection, this also strengthened the standing of her lesser house of Tarth in their marriage. 

The septon fumbled for a moment. “Very well, my Lord.” He cleared his throat. "My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." 

Brienne and Jaime turned to face each other and clasp hands. Both their swords hung at their hips towards the audience. Jaime frowned that his gold hand was among the joining of their hands by holding and the tying of the ribbon. Brienne was uncertain if it angered him that the gold hand was included, or that his missing right hand was not. 

The vows went by in a fog. The words she had spent the last month saying to herself while her father traveled to King's Landing to give his blessing. Could she give them to Jaime with a clear conscious? Could she believe he gave them the same? 

This morning after what he had told her of the night before, Brienne had taken a short stroll through the gardens. Frost had already killed most of it and her breath misted before her as she sat in the wane light of a beginning long winter. 

She'd known he had a past with another woman, and his sister at that. She'd known how deep his love for his sister ran. She's seen how much his two loves tore him apart, even before he and Brienne had ever voiced their love. She'd known he had slept with his sister after his return to King's Landing. She'd still agreed to marry him despite all of that. Did it make that much difference that he had spent one last night with the other woman he loved? 

The dark candlelight sept returned. She said her final vow while Jaime said, “I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

Brienne's heart hammered in her chest and she worried about what she might have just done by marrying this man. Then, she saw Jaime look her over again, saw the deep love echoed in his green eyes. He loved her fully and completely just as she was. She would never find another match to do the same. She saw the gray in his hair, the lines around his eyes, the gold hand. Neither of them was without flaws. She had to hope he was right that together they would make each other better. 

The septon finished the last of his words. “I present Lord Jaime Lannister, Hand of the King, and Lady Brienne Lannister of Tarth.”

Jaime stepped closer and graced her cheek with his left hand. His lips touched hers, and they kissed. She had expected it to be chaise and proper, but this was anything but. Full and deep, his tongue slipped past her eager lips, took her breath away and spread desire through her. A blush spread up her neck as Jaime stepped back from her. She almost wanted to slap the cocky grin off his face. 

Instead, she turned with him to greet the room. It was a modest affair for a usual Lannister wedding, so most of the audience was family and those more important to the court and their houses. She smiled at what she and Jaime had just done despite all the eyes judging her, them both. 

Jaime offered her his gold hand with a frown. She thought for a second of not taking it, but it was the way weddings ended, so she wrapped her arm around his. Together they exited the sept and made their way back into the Red Keep where a banquet awaited. 

#

The banquet as well was modest, at least by King's Landing standing. Heaps of food still covered their plates: roast beef and mutton, root vegetables and potatoes, fresh bread, cool butter, warm berry tarts and lemon cakes. Brienne should be eager to return to her new quarters, Jaime's rooms in the royal apartments, but she found herself nervous enough to not complain about needing to linger at the banquet first. 

“You're gorgeous,” Jaime whispered into her ear, lips almost grazing her skin. 

She blushed at the lust in his gaze. Brienne looked down at her gown and cocked her head. “You are certainly the more beautiful of us two.”

Jaime lifted his gold hand, the one between them, to her head. “I like the hair.” To keep it in order it had been oiled to her scalp. “Not that you don't look beautiful with your hair all flayed out, dirty and wet with sweat.”

“I don't look beautiful, Jaime.” She frowned over at him. 

“You do, but don't believe it if you like.” He sighed.

“I would have preferred you with a beard.” She took a bite of a lemon cake. 

Jaime chuckled and ran his hand over his cleanly shaved cheeks. He leaned to whisper into her ear. “You'll be thankful for my shaved face when its buried between your thighs.”

Brienne blushed again. She had heard of such things, in what little she'd learned of relations between men and women. She swallowed over the lump in her throat at the thought of his lips over her sex. 

“I'm your husband now. I can say these things.” He gave a cocky smile. “You look ever better with that blush upon your cheeks.”

She stared him down. He raised his hands to stop her, a chuckle still coming from him. “Very well, I talk no more of such, until we're alone at least.”

“Is it always like this...?” She looked out at the room full of eyes glancing at them, studying their every movement, judging, plotting she supposed. 

“The judging and schemes and games.” Jaime sighed and took a long sip of his wine. “Always.” 

A servant came by and refilled both their glasses again. They had done so for four half glasses now, she thought. “We'll both be too drunk to enjoy anything at this rate,” Brienne said.

He smiled she knew at her mention she was going to enjoy tonight. “Then, stop drinking it.” He shrugged, and took another sip. She noticed he barely swallowed and his glass emptied little. 

Brienne remember he had decades of experience in the Red Keep. She took his led and took the tiniest of sips to wet her tongue. She ate a bite of mutton, the meat moist and well spiced. The food at least was always good here. 

She glanced over and noticed Jaime staring at a sliver of roast beef on his plate. He held his fork in his hand and stared between his unused knife and the meat which required it. His face held no emotion, but she could see the frustration radiating off him. Brienne moved a hand to his knife to aid him. 

“Don't.” His harsh voice stopped her. His eyes remained on his plate, though his attention was on the room before them. “Do not cut my meat as if you're my nursemaid instead of my wife.” He sighed and took a bite of carrot instead. “She knows this is my favorite and that I could not manage it myself.”

At that, Brienne noticed Cersei watching them from across the room at a table with her father and Mace Tyrell. Being a small affair somehow Jaime had convinced them to sit him and Brienne at a separate table, instead of a long head table. The Queen Regent lifted a glass of wine to her lips and sipped with a smile. 

Jaime gave his sister a smile, then stabbed the roast with his fork and brought the entire piece to his mouth. He tore off a large bite. The juices dribbled down his smooth chin. He returned the rest to his plate and daintily wiped away the juices. Brienne just barely managed not chuckling at the action. 

Looking back at Cersei, he raised his arm and gave a small seated bow to her, a subtle move that was likely not noticed by any not watching closely. Cersei in reply smiled and lifted her hand to her mouth to blow a mock kiss, another subtle move. 

“Schemes in plots and plots in schemes,” Jaime said. Brienne heard the anger in his voice.

“She doesn't like me much.” She tried not to frown since Cersei was looking. 

“My dear sister does not like that I truly love you.” Jaime ate another bite. “If she even thinks of hurting you, I'll strangle her myself.”

Brienne almost asked if he would actually do such. Then she saw the anger flash in his eyes and knew he meant the words fully. She wondered if she should feel protected by Jaime, or upset he thought her trusting nature and lacking experience with high society made her easy prey here.

“You sitting on my right was I'm sure also her doing,” Jaime said. “Leaving this useless thing beside you so I can't hold your hand, even grace your face or shoulder with a real touch.” He thudded the golden hand on his thigh under the table. 

Brienne reached out with her left hand and rested it on his thigh. He gave her a small smile. “Although my dear sister also is responsible for your gown. She made sure to get that right, the height and width of it.”

“I was measured for it.” Brienne looked down at her breastplate. “The front is cut much too low.” She shook her head. She doubted she would ever wear the dress otherwise. The scars from the bear had healed to harsh, white slashes, and showed clearly in the dress. Brienne had ignored the slight smile upon Cersei's lips at the sight of that and Brienne's own meager breast. 

“I'm sure it's not at all.” Jaime lifted his roast and took another bite, and followed it by a sip of wine and smile at his sister. 

“It is.” She frowned. 

“Because you weren't amply endowed, such as the Queen?” He leaned closer. 

Queen Margaery, recovering still from having her tongue cut as punishment for her lies, sat beside Tommen. Her dress barely covered enough of her breasts as they almost spilled out at a laugh from something the King said. 

“Yes.” Brienne took another bite of the lemon cake. She often wondered if she had been blessed with beauty if she could flaunt it as a women like the Queen did. 

Jaime rested his elbow beside her and leaned in closer. “I'm seen your bare breasts, there's more than enough there for me,” he whispered. “I do have but the one hand for them to fill anyhow, and your nipples are nicely large enough for my mouth.”

Brienne swallowed over the desire he bubbled inside her, sure a blush again coated her face. She turned to look at him. “We were not going to talk of such until later,” her voice cracked as she cocked her head and tried to look upset. 

“Yes, sorry.” Jaime raised his left hand and turned to her, their noses almost touching. He traced where the scars of the bear rested under the neck of her breastplate. “And the scar....”

“Everyone is looking,” she whispered.

“Let them.” She thought he might kiss you, instead Jaime leaned forward to cover her face as he whispered in her ear. “Show that scar as the proven warrior you are and the knight you should be. No man in this room could best you with a sword.”

Brienne leaned back. “I got this scar before being rescued from a bear by a fevered one-handed madman.”

“True.” Jaime chuckled and dipped his head. “Best to leave that out of the tale; won't play as well with those details.”

“I'm better than Lord Bronn?” she asked. 

Jaime shrugged and sipped wine. “Possibly not. He doesn't fight fair.”

“He's also sworn to protect you, so could be trusted.”

“Trust no one in this room, except for your father, and me, I suppose.” Jaime frowned at her. 

“You don't trust your sister?” She frowned back at him.

He shook his head, sighed. “No,” he finally whispered.

“Tommen?” His own son who he was increasingly growing closer to.

“Who knows who might be controlling him.” Jaime looked out at the room. “First rule of this place, possibly the only rule, trust no one.”

Brienne frowned at that. It went against her nature to not trust. She wished to be done with King's Landing soon, although she knew Jaime desired to stay and help Tommen. A threat to his throne would likely result in the youngest of Jaime's children dying too, and neither he nor Cersei wanted that. Brienne hoped that perhaps Jaime's plans would change if she gave him a rightful heir, although it also made her feel a silly maiden to wish such. Her better hope was that Jaime would convince Tommen to step down from the throne and flee to Casterly Rock, and perhaps the young man would be reasonable enough to listen. 

“Already planning on getting away from this place.” Jaime paused in eating to ask. 

Brienne almost shook her head. 

“We should.” He took a long sip of wine and watched the room before them. “Hand of the bloody King,” he whispered to her. “The job I've wanted least in his dreaded place, aside from the being the bloody King.”

“You will still do it well, I am sure.” Brienne gave him a small smile.

Jaime shook his head. “Cersei got Father's ability to scheme, and Tyrion his intelligence to rule.”

“Could you have said no?” Brienne asked. Jaime had told her about how Tommen himself had asked him to be his Hand after Jaime finally told his son about his parentage. It had been perhaps the first real favor Tommen had asked of Jaime. 

Jaime remained silent, unable to word, 'no', although Brienne knew that was the truth. 

“Your father would have hated our marriage.” Brienne frowned. She had only really seen Tywin Lannister from a distance, and Jaime himself never truly spoke ill of the man. But Brienne knew as well as most in the kingdoms did that the ruthlessness of the Lannisters in past years had always began with Tywin. 

A burst of choked laughter escaped Jaime's lips. “He would have hated it. Thought it made me more a laughing stock.” Jaime laughed again. “Truth is, it does, and I could care less.” 

Brienne's father rose from his seat and cleared his throat. Lord Selwyn was a tall man, besting her by even a good few inches. “I offer a toast to my dear daughter, Brienne.” He raised his glass of wine. “I'm glad to see you have found the love and union you always deserved. May you be blessed with long life, continued love and many heirs.”

Cheers echoed as the room raised their glasses in agreement and swallowed down wine. 

At the urging of Queen Margaery, Tommen rose. “I welcome Lady Brienne, my new... aunt into the family. May you both be blessed with happiness.” More cheers and emptied wine. 

Jaime scooted back his chair and stood. He raised his glass. “To my... wife Brienne.” He smiled down at her. “May the future hold long years together, warm hearths and many children, or to fall in a great battle our lifeblood draining together from us, either way, may you ever be at my side.”

Brienne raised her glass to Jaime. She caught the looks from the room at Jaime's wish for them to die together. It was the option she might have preferred. “To our future together, whatever it brings.” Finally the room stirred and raised glasses and cheer. 

“And now, dear family and honored guests,” Jaime said with a smile to the room before turned back to Brienne, “I have a willing maid I have waited more than long enough to deflower. My lady.” He reached out his hand and gave a small bow. 

Brienne knew she blushed and did not even glance at the shocked looks those very guests must now have. Still, she took Jaime's hand and rose to stand beside him. 

Jaime smirked back at the room. “At least before my belly is too full of this wonderful feast and I'm too far in my cups for my cock to properly raise itself --” 

Brienne backhanded his chest hard enough to knock Jaime back a step despite the pain that radiated in her hand from his armor. She then pushed him to get him walking towards the door before he could manage to speak again. Their swords clanged against their thighs, both on the side facing the room. 

Jaime pulled up and leaned toward the room as if telling them all a secret. “We will try to remember to take off the swords before we fu--”

This time Brienne shoved him. Her strength caused him to stumble several steps out the door. Brienne turned back to the room, trying not to pay attention to any of the faces, including the worry on her father's face. She gave a small bow and mumbled, “Apologies,” then exited herself. 

She barely turned the corner when Jaime grabbed her and shoved her against the wall. 

“By the seven I love you, wench.” He laughed and smiled, his lips ghosting against her own at their closeness. Then he kissed her, deep and long. He ground his hips against her thigh and even through his armor and her gown she felt his hardness. 

Jaime leaned back. “Now, Brienne, may I finally make a woman of you?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, Jaime.” 

He sighed and stepped apart. He reached out a hand to her again. When Brienne took it Jaime actually started running. Between their armor and swords and her girth their feet thundered on the polished stone floors. Jaime turned back to her with laughter, a smile and lust, and Brienne felt possibly as beautiful as he believed her.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how many of these I will write, so I'm leaving it a series and filling in as I write the pieces. I have not and likely will not soon see the new season of GoT, so please no spoilers in comments. Also, this may possibly diverge from canon because of that.


End file.
